Team Bonding
by msgenevieve447
Summary: There's team bonding, and then there's Team Bonding. A one-shot AU in which there is laser tag, team bonding and a kiss. (This is for hookslovelyswan on tumblr, who gave me the delightful prompt of: AU story where Killian and Emma are playing laser tag or some competitive sport together, end up trapped together briefly, and share an unexpected kiss.)


Emma spins on her heel and dives behind the nearest shelter, cursing the white collar executive who first thought of the phrase 'team bonding'. As she huddles behind the fake galvanized trash can, she directs even more curses in the direction of her Managing Partner who, after taking his team out for drinks to celebrate a trial win, decided to then strong-arm them into a spontaneous evening of indoor laser tag.

Doing anything that requires this level of coordination after consuming half a bottle of red wine is not for the faint-hearted, not to mention her extremely non-sensible pair of heels. Her head and her feet are not going to be her friends in the morning.

Not only that, this is not exactly the group of people with whom she'd normally chose to spend a Friday night. Her team is fine, great even, but there are a few extra hangers-on, favourites of the boss, and she's not sure she's entirely comfortable hurtling around in the dark with some of them, especially dressed in her best 'impress the judge' black suit and killer heels with a serious alcohol buzz going on.

Especially him -

_No_. She cuts off her own thought. She is _not_ going to think about the annoyingly good-looking new senior associate, the wunderkind from London who is now heading up their Maritime Law division. Not going to think about how he seems to have already charmed every single female in the firm without once throwing a 'good morning' _her_ way. And she's definitely not going to think about how she's caught him watching her more than once, or the way that her pit of her stomach curls up like old parchment set on fire whenever their eyes meet.

He's here somewhere, at the express invitation of the boss no less, and she smiles at the thought that she might be the one to shoot him out of the game. Not, she thinks as she adjusts the ridiculous fluoro flashing vest she's got strapped over her red blouse, that she wants him to notice her. Because that would mean that she's noticed _him_, and she's determined not to notice him, because he embodies everything she's pretty sure she doesn't want in a man. Unless (if the whispers from said females in the firm can be believed) she was just looking for a good fu –

High-pitched shrieking laughter (and a whole lot of swearing) to her left almost splits her eardrum, the flashing lights of two of her colleague's vests almost blinding her in the near-darkness. Emma crouches lower behind the trash can, trying to work out if they are friend or foe. They had split into teams at the start of this ridiculous game, but Emma can't tell who was who in the darkness. Come to think of it, she can't actually remember who's on her team.

"There's Emma!" The booming (and more than a little tipsy) voice of her boss' personal assistant breaks through the madness of buzzing lasers. "Get her!"

"Shit!" With a speed she didn't realise she could muster in this outfit, Emma is on her feet and darting to her right before her pursuers can aim a single shot. She has no idea where she's headed, only that she can't bear to 'die' after only ten minutes. Clutching her weapon tightly, she spins and fires wildly behind her, grinning as she hears the 'wah wah' sound of her colleagues' vests being hit. Maybe she's not so bad at this thing after all-

She's barely had two seconds to gloat when two vaguely familiar figures appear to her left and, judging from the way they're raising their laser guns, they're not on her team either. "Any last words, Swan?"

"Bite me!" She keeps running, ducking around corners and behind low walls, adrenaline pumping in a way she hasn't felt in the longest time (not even during the most strenuous of boxing classes) until she comes to a dead end and knows she's toast.

An arm snakes out of nowhere, a hand wrapping itself around her elbow and pulling her into the dark shadows. She splutters, too out of breath to protest, and a few seconds later she's wedged in a narrow space between two mock shelters, hidden from even the most ardent of pursuers. She's also wedged against a decidedly warm, definitely male body, and turns to read them the riot act, because this is just not something that's happening tonight.

She turns to the owner of the arm and the hand (which is still wrapped around her elbow) and opens her mouth, but her indignant, "what the hell?" dies on her lips, because Killian Jones is grinning at her, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.

"I was hoping it'd be you."

Emma stares at him, painfully aware of the somersaulting butterflies that have just taken flight in her belly. He's wearing his usual black shirt, but he's lost the tie (and several buttons as well, it seems). His dark hair is tousled, his forehead and the long line of his tanned throat gleaming lightly with perspiration. He looks mad, bad and dangerous to know, to coin a phrase, and Emma feels a violent quiver in her knees and several other interesting places, rendering her speechless.

Well, _shit_.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced." He shifts against her (oh, this is not happening) trying to find some space between them, then holds out his hand. "Killian Jones."

She looks at his hand, then back up at his face. "I know."

If her refusal to shake his hand shakes his confidence, it doesn't show. If anything, he only seems more pleased with himself. "My reputation precedes me, I take it?"

She's had too much wine to have this conversation. She's definitely had too much wine to be this close to him. She goes to step out into the corridor, then shrinks back at the sound of pounding feet and her name being called. "If you can call being gossiped about by the secretaries over the photocopier _preceding you_, then yes," she whispers back to him in a low hiss.

He grins at her, white teeth flashing in the semi-darkness. "Careful, Swan." The way his accent lilts over her name shouldn't make her feel as though she's wearing too many clothes, but that's exactly what it does. "To the untrained ear, you might come across as a tad envious."

"Didn't realise you knew my name, _Jones_." She sucks in a deep breath, trying to put some space between them, but all it does is fill her senses with the smell of his aftershave, something warm and spicy that probably cost more than her shoes.

"Emma Swan, rising star of White and Mills?" His knee bumps against her as he leans closer, filling the space between them with his gleaming smile and glittering blue eyes. "I've heard all about you, love."

"_Love_? Seriously?" She gives him the best glare she manage, trying to summon up every available ounce of outrage. "This is New York, Jones, not Old Blighty, and you'd better get used to women not falling for that tired old routine."

To her complete and utter annoyance, her whispered tirade only makes his smile widen. "Oh, you're a tough lass, aren't you?"

She should be furious. She should tell him to fuck off and leave her alone. But the words don't come and the only refuge she has is escape. She doesn't care if she'll be lasered to death as soon as she steps out into the open, she just needs to get away from Killian Jones and his lush mouth and laughing eyes. Shoving her shoulder hard against his, she tries to move past him. "Well, it's been a real treat, but I'm-"

Her right stiletto, such a good wardrobe choice at seven o'clock this morning, catches on the laces of his left shoe, and she stumbles into him, pushing him back against the wall behind him. She hears him inhale a sharp breath, then she hears him drop his laser gun, his hands coming up to rest lightly on her hips. She's pressed against him from shoulder to thigh, and she should be scrambling away from him and beating a hasty retreat, but her pulse is humming in her ears and all she can think is that she wants to kiss that smirk right off his mouth.

It seems she's not alone in the impulse. In the near-darkness, his gaze is scorching over her face, lingering on her mouth. "You'll die out there, Swan."

Her laser vest suddenly feels way too tight, making it hard to breathe. She barely knows him, and she has to work with him, and this is such a bad idea. So why isn't she leaving? "I'll take my chances."

He drops his hands from her hips, but he doesn't step away. "What are you doing after this?"

"Going home." She licks her lips, a nervous gesture she's never been able to control, and his eyes darken. "Alone."

"That sounds like a terribly dull plan." He dips his head, his lips almost brushing her ear. "Let me buy a drink instead."

Goosebumps are dancing down her spine and her arms. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I beg to differ." Leaning back, his gaze locks with hers. "In fact, I think it's the best idea I've had in a long time."

The nearby sound of pounding feet and laughter suddenly invades their hiding place, and she doesn't know if she's relieved or disappointed. Killian looks over his shoulder, then back at her. Before she can move, speak or even guess at his intent, his hands are cupping her face. "A kiss before dying, my lady?"

Then he's kissing her, his mouth gentle and warm and devastating, tasting of mint and top-shelf rum and she's sinking into him, her hands splayed awkwardly across his laser vest. Without thinking, without hesitation, she opens her mouth to kiss him back with a hunger she hasn't felt for a very long time, letting his tongue sweep across her lips to tangle with hers. A rough groan rumbles deep in his chest, and she feels an answering spasm of desire shoot through her. _Jesus, what was happening here? _

"Ha!" A hail of laser sound effects and flashing lights pierce the darkness around them, and she jerks away, her heart hammering, belatedly recognising one of the junior associates from her team. "Two kills with one shot! Woohoo!"

Her face burning, Emma can't think of a single comeback, but it seems she doesn't have to.

"Nice work, lad. A noble kill worthy of a true warrior." Killian Jones claps the other man on the shoulder, a gesture that turns into a gentle but pointed shove. Not that the guy notices; he's too busy celebrating by running back down the corridor, leaving them alone once more.

"Now then, Swan." He smiles at her, a slow, knowing curving of lips that are still wearing the faintest trace of her lip gloss, and she feels her knees once again turn to water. "Care to continue our team bonding over that drink?"


End file.
